Might As Well
by kimpernickel
Summary: "If I'm going to be a human for the rest of my time on this Earth, then it might as well be with you."
1. Beginnings

The light summer night breeze tousled the tall grass that they reclined in, the crisp coolness washing over their bodies. Meg stared up at the infinite amount of stars twinkling in the purplish-black night sky above her, her forearm underneath her head as a pillow. The ground was too stiff, the grass too itchy, the outdoorsy odor too overwhelming. But the stars above distracted her from such uncomfortable misgivings, and for the past ten minutes, she forgot that she was now human.

"It's beautiful," she said aloud, unthinking and uncaring. It was almost a fact instead of a compliment.

"The universe is enchanting," Castiel responded. "Such beauty is almost incomprehensible even to angels, but—"

"Shut up," Meg snapped. In the past, she was able to tolerate his poetic explanations. But ever since she woke up human, any and everything annoyed her. The need to eat and drink, to sleep, to relieve and clean herself—these human needs she hadn't felt in over a millennium were irritable. Listening to Castiel's rambling was cumbersome enough, and not something she wanted to worry herself with when she had human needs to look after.

"You're…angry."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Not at you," she clarified. It was the truth, but she made no effort to sound convincing.

"But, you _are_ angry."

She sat up. "Yeah. I'm fucking pissed. Humans are weak, and now I am one—again. Now _that's _Hell. A real brand of torture."

Castiel tenderly took her small hand in his. Meg's first instinct was to flinch away, but he was gentle and calm, his hands warm and inviting. Meg did not relax, but allowed for the angel to hold her. Instead she eyed him suspiciously. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight, but Meg could only scowl at him.

"I think you were given a chance—"

"Fuck off."

Castiel pressed his lips together, hesitating before continuing. "I think you were given a chance to start over. Not quite redemption, for your redemption depends on your actions in this new life. But you were given the opportunity."

"Is God still around?"

The angel furrowed his brow in confusion. "I think so, yes. He remains elusive, and he hasn't been in Heaven for years, and there are always substitutes—myself included—but he is still among us, even if he doesn't want to be found. Why do you ask?"

Meg fake-smiled, snatching her hand back into her lap. "Nice to know that the dick gave me a chance without my consent."

"You're upset because you weren't given a choice? I thought you would prefer to be alive, even if it is as a human. Humans are incredibly flawed, but they are also magnificent. Absolute masterpieces, really."

The former demon sighed. "Yeah, I know. You love humanity so much that you rebelled from Heaven because of it. But let's get real, Clarence. I was ready to die and cease to exist. I figured my time was up. I sacrificed myself for _you _and your stupid pets, but instead I came back weaker. Humans are disgusting. They have to play by all these rules, and that's not including the law. They grow old and weaker. And for what? To die? Aren't you all about that free will? If I were actually given the choice, I would stay dead. _Really _dead, no damn afterlife."

The silence thickened between them, with only the rustling grass providing any noise.

"I was human for a while," Castiel chirped. "It wasn't too bad. Of course there was a lot that I didn't know about being a human, and I was in dire circumstances, but it was not too horrible of an experience."

Meg scoffed. "You say that now, when you've got unlimited access to your angel juice. Cut the bullshit, Clarence. If you had the choice, would you choose to be human again? Permanently?"

She waited for his response. The longer he spent mulling over an answer, the more Meg knew her point was valid.

But Castiel surprised her.

"Maybe," he softly answered.

Meg raised an eyebrow. "_Maybe_? Bullshit. That just means no without admitting it—"

"No, I do mean 'maybe,'" Castiel interrupted, his rough voice louder and clearer than just seconds before. "If I had a good enough reason to, then I would."

"You would give up all the celestial perks of being an angel for urination, hygiene, fragility, and growing old? No more quick transportation? No smiting demons?"

"Yes. But only if I had a reason to."

Meg laughed sarcastically at him. "Well, at least it was your choice."

* * *

_**63 hours later.**_

She left the Winchesters' bunker when the Winchesters were off on a hunt and Castiel was…somewhere undiscernible. She stole one of the Winchesters' duffel bags and stuffed it with several clothes and hygienic products that Castiel provided with her earlier in the week, along with some fruit and a bottle of water. She had no money; her attempts to pilfer from the bunker were fruitless, save for the fake credit card she found in Dean's bedroom. Leaving the bunker, she headed towards the highway, hoping that someone would be willing to give her a ride to a bus station. It reminded her of her first encounter with Sam Winchester, so many years ago. The good old days, when Azazel was still alive and the apocalypse was just over the horizon.

Meg walked for forty-five minutes. Only three cars passed her in that time, all going in the opposite direction. She grumbled to herself as she kept walking.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Fuck," Meg muttered under her breath before turning around. She knew it was only a matter of when he would track her down, but she had hoped it would've been later. "I'm heading out. I think I've overstayed my welcome with the Winchesters and I'm sick of staring at bunker walls all damn day."

"I am taking care of you—"

"You want to help me? Fine. Take me to the nearest bus station, give me some money, then leave."

Castiel took a step towards her. "Why are you so adverse to my help? You said you are not angry with me, but your actions say otherwise."

"I'm _not_ upset with you," Meg reiterated. "But I figured if I'm human now I might as well not be a prisoner." She turned on her heel and continued walking.

Castiel only followed her. "So you will be a drifter?"

"What else?"

"You could always be a hunter. Join Sam and Dean. You are an excellent fighter."

Meg fought the urge not to stop in her tracks and laugh in Castiel's face. "Firstly, no fucking way am I going to be a hunter. That way of life is more than demeaning. Secondly, Sam and Dean don't really like me, no matter how much shit I had to put up with so they could."

"You underestimate them," Castiel replied. "They won't like to admit it, but they do care about you."

"I'm not going to be a hunter regardless."

She felt a broad hand on her shoulder, preventing her from moving any further.

"Are you sure about this, then? Do you really want this?"

Meg shrugged. "I couldn't have a choice about being human, but I get a say in how I run this new life of mine, don't I?"

She expected some kind of response from Castiel. Instead, the empty highway was replaced with a moderately busy bus station. Meg spun around, searching for Castiel until a tap on her back startled her. "Here," he said, handing her an envelope and a second, less tattered duffel bag. "These will help." Meg opened the envelope to see a stack of cash.

"Did you rob a bank?"

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

A grin crept on her lips. "Thanks."

"If you ever need help, please call for me."

"How do I do that?"

"Just pray."

_I'm a demon, we don't pray. _Castiel disappeared before Meg corrected herself.

_Was a demon._

* * *

_**Three weeks later.**_

In Tucson, Arizona, Meg sat on the dusty bed of her motel room, sipping a cheap bottle of beer she purchased at the nearby convenience store. She flipped through the limited television selection, settling for a nature documentary about bees.

_I don't fight anymore. I watch the bees._

Meg smiled. "If only Castiel was here for this."

The fluttering of wings indicated everything.

"You finally called for me."

"_No_, I was making a comment. Shit, are you planning on dropping by every time I say your name?"

The angel sheepishly averted her gaze. "I haven't heard from you since you left. I was worried, but I figured you want your space."

"You figured correctly."

They glowered at each other. Meg hoped he would take the hint.

He didn't.

"How have you been doing?"

Meg crossed her arms. "You can track me, can't you? You should know what I've been up to."

"You're right. I have been watching you from distances. Hitchhiking through four states in three weeks. I wish you would at least call for me once in a while. You must be rather lonely."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Thanks for the concern, but I'm a solitary creature," she snidely remarked. The angel stood motionlessly at the side of the bed.

"I suppose I will go now," Castiel finally said. Meg nodded and watched the shape of his human vessel vanish as if he never arrived.

* * *

_**One week later.**_

In a Las Vegas hotel room, a man pressed Meg back on her bed. She didn't know his name, and she didn't care, really. He kissed her furiously, and she let him. _Damn, _it felt...wrong.

When he started trailing his kisses down her neck, the heated desire for sex dissipated within seconds. It didn't feel right. Meg remained stationary, unresponsive.

"Is everything okay?" he asked after noticing she stopped. He rolled off of her.

"I thought I wanted this," Meg stated. "But I'm not really feeling it tonight. Sorry."

The nameless man stared at her. "Are you sure?"

Meg was certain it shocked her more than it shocked him. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Well…okay then," he said disappointingly. "How long are you staying?"

She hadn't thought about it. But she already knew her answer.

"Leaving tomorrow."

"So no chance of seeing you again, huh?"

She shook her head. "Probably not."

"Well, bye," he said, heading towards the door. "Oh, my name's Eric."

"Samantha," Meg lied.

Eric awkwardly smiled and waved farewell before departing her room. Meg pressed her back against the headboard, clutching her legs to her chest. An unsettling sensation settled within her. She hadn't underwent it in since Crowley kept her as a prisoner for over a year, and now it was amplified because of her being a human. _God dammit, _but...

The fluttering of wings reached her ears. Castiel stood at the foot of the bed.

"I didn't call for you. I didn't even say your fucking name."

"I know. But I could sense you were…distressed."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Go to Hell."

"I've already been. Not an enjoyable place."

She scoffed. "Yeah, you're telling me."

Neither spoke. Meg refused to look at the angel in the eye, but Castiel's eyes burnt into her skin.

"Why are you here, Meg?"

"I don't know any more than you."

"Not about that," Castiel clarified. "Why are you here in Las Vegas?"

She shrugged. "Felt like partying, and Vegas is a party city, isn't it?"

"Are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere."

"I wish you would call for me more often."

Her chest tightened at the sound of those words. His presence was comforting, oddly enough. When she was a demon, Meg could feel his grace radiating off of his vessel—an overpowering, headache-inducing sensation that she eventually became used to. Now, it was as if he were just another human. Meg didn't reply.

"Why are you so adverse to my help? Don't you remember the psychiatric ward?"

"Consider the debt repaid."

"No," Castiel curtly answered. "It isn't about a debt. I'm worried about you. We used to be…friends. Friends under strange circumstances, most definitely, but friends nonetheless. We used to talk to each other, back in the ward. You read me short stories and played games with me. You put up with me when the Winchesters wouldn't. You sacrificed yourself for me. And I know…"

As his words trailed off, Meg's ears perked. "You know what?"

Castiel hesitated. "I know what you told Sam."

The thing humans called a heart plummeted deep into Meg's stomach.

"It took me a few moments to understand, but I do," Castiel continued. "And I'm very confused now because your behavior doesn't match up with what you said to Sam."

Meg heaved a sigh. "Please leave me alone, Clarence."

Castiel lingered for several seconds before he disappeared.

* * *

_**Two weeks later.**_

Sitting on a bench in the San Francisco Botanical Garden, Meg stared at the collection of flowers. The light breeze ruffled her hair and made her shiver on occasion, but it didn't bother her too much. It was rather refreshing. The gardens reminded her of the all the time she spent with Castiel in the psychiatric ward's garden. That garden was minuscule and poorly kept, especially in comparison to the botanical gardens with its thousands of healthy, colorful flowers—but the ward's garden was pleasant nonetheless.

_Castiel_. She hadn't thought about him since Las Vegas.

And somehow, she was itching to see him.

"Yes?"

"Sit with me."

He did.

"Magnolias. They're beautiful."

"That's what they are?"

Castiel nodded.

They sat in silence, staring at the flowers and occasional passersby. Time was so slow as a human, but Meg the lack of speed cleared her mind—or at least, she liked to think it did. In reality, her mind raced with anxiety.

The sun began setting when Meg stood up. Castiel stood with her.

"Is this it then?" he asked.

"Yeah," Meg answered, unsure if she was telling the truth or lying through her teeth.

"Goodbye, then," Castiel said.

A strange emptiness within Meg's chest formed within seconds of his departure.

* * *

_**Eight days later.**_

Sitting in a nearly empty coffee shop, Meg shuffled a deck of cards. She called for Castiel.

"You're still in San Francisco," he immediately said when taking a seat across from her. "Is this the longest you've stayed in a place?"

Meg nodded. "It's not so bad." She continued shuffling the cards before setting them aside. "Let's play a card game."

* * *

_**One month later.**_

Calling for Castiel became a weekly thing. Each week, a different location. They would usually sit somewhere public, where they could observe people and talk about trivial matters. At first, he never spoke about the Winchesters or whatever new troubles they were facing, and he never asked her about how she was. They would simply talk about the people they saw or things they experienced.

But eventually, Meg asked about the Winchesters. Castiel would talk about their hunts and how he occasionally joined the brothers. Meg, strangely enough, wanted to hear about those two meatheads.

"They ask about you," Castiel confessed one afternoon.

"Liar," Meg retorted. "They don't care about me. They never have."

"No, Meg, they do. I keep telling you that they do care for you, even if they themselves won't admit it. Sam is always wondering if you are doing well."

Meg smirked. "I always preferred Sam."

* * *

_**Ten months later.**_

Yosemite to Niagara Falls. Miami to Seattle. Country roads to city streets. If Meg wanted a change of scenery, she only needed to ask Castiel to take her there.

It was as if they were back in the psychiatric ward, although the angel was no longer mute or spastic. They talked about Heaven and Hell, any and everything in between. When they were together, Meg was at ease. She smiled too much—it made her cheeks hurt.

"It's been nearly a year since you left the bunker," Castiel mentioned one morning as they sat in a diner. Meg chomped away on blueberry pancakes smothered in syrup while Castiel merely sipped a cup of black coffee.

"Only a year? Fuck, time is even slower than I thought."

"And this is the longest you've stayed in a location."

"Really?"

"Nearly three weeks in Carpenter, Virginia. Do you want to visit somewhere else now?"

Meg shook her head. "Not yet. I kind of like it here."

She caught his gaze. The corners of his mouth were barely turned upwards. Meg attempted to hide the smile forming on her own mouth.

"I'm afraid I need to go now. I can hear Sam and Dean calling me."

When the waitress came to take Meg's empty plate away, she raised an eyebrow. "Where did your boyfriend go?"

Alarmed, Meg snapped, "We're not dating." It was the truth.

* * *

_**Six weeks later.**_

After a month and half in the small mountainside town of Carpenter, Meg applied for a job as a waitress at the diner.

It wasn't an ideal job, and definitely not one she intended to keep. But the fellow staff were friendly and most of the customers were incredibly kind. Her busy work schedule meant less calling on Castiel.

On an off day, she called for him. She hadn't seen him in weeks, she needed to tell him about her new job and how she actually enjoyed it.

He never showed.

* * *

_**Twelve days later.**_

Every day she returned from work, Meg called for him.

"C'mon, Clarence. I just wanna talk."

No response.

* * *

_**Five days later.**_

Meg gave up. She refused to accept that anything bad would happen to him. He was busy helping the Winchesters on some new huge problem, and Castiel couldn't distract himself with a former demon. _Priorities_.

While watching television in the motel room she lived in since she first came to Carpenter, the interrupting knock at the door tore her from the mindless trash television. Annoyed, Meg lifted herself off the bed to the door. "Yeah, yeah, what's up?" she muttered before opening.

But when she pulled open the door, there stood Castiel.

"Clarence? You're—"

"Human."

The unexpected words slapped Meg across her face. "What?"

"I'm human, Meg. I tore out my grace, and I am human. You were so busy the last few weeks, and it drove me insane. But Sam and Dean," he gestured to the Chevy Impala in the parking lot, with Sam and Dean sitting in the interior, falsely occupied with reading a local newspaper, "they made me realize that I want to be with you. I love you, Meg, and I want to experience your human life _with _you, as a human myself—"

Meg brushed pass him, striding over to the Impala. She tapped her knuckles against the window of the driver's door. Dean unrolled the window.

"Yes?"

"There's a diner about five minutes to the right. Go have some pie."

She didn't bother waiting for a response. She only returned back to the threshold of her motel room, where Castiel remained standing.

And, for the first time since that night they stormed Crowley's prison—so long ago, and yet, as if it was just around time's corner—she kissed him.

* * *

_**Three hours later.**_

Amongst the motel bed's sheets, Meg placed her head on Castiel's shoulder and draped her arm across his chest. He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger.

"Finally ordered that pizza," Meg commented, the words far more smug than she intended them to be.

"May I ask you something?"

"Didn't you already?"

Meg wasn't sure if he hadn't picked up on her wit or if he was just ignoring it. "When did you realize you love me?"

The former demon removed herself from his body. "That's a loaded question," Meg said, shifting further down so she was lying on the bed.

"I have loved you since…" Castiel began, pausing to collect his thoughts. "I've loved you since the hospital. I thought about you frequently when I was in Purgatory, especially when Dean was out and I was alone. I was elated to find you in that bathroom. But I didn't realize how much I love you until I learnt about your death. I first cursed Crowley for killing you, then Sam for not protecting you, then I cursed Sam and Dean for not appreciating you more. But I cursed myself for not properly taking care of you when I should have. I was under a strong influence and my false desire to help Heaven trumped my true desire to help you—and the Winchesters, but this soliloquy is about you, so I'll try not to talk about them."

Meg snorted. "You really don't have to do that."

"When did you realize you love me?" Castiel repeated.

Meg stared at the popcorn ceiling above her. It really was a loaded question, but the answer came to her rather quickly. She had known the answer for a while. "Since I was Crowley's captive, but I didn't want to admit it. Crowley liked throwing your name around like a taunt. I only admitted it to myself when Sam was telling me about that chick he was with when you and Dean were in Purgatory. I understood all that gooey shit he was talking about."

"Love is so peculiar. It happens so slowly, and yet rapidly."

Meg agreed, but kept her thoughts to herself.

"May I ask another question?"

"You don't have to ask for my permission."

"Why were you avoiding me before? Why did keep pushing me away when I only wanted to help?"

Meg sighed. "I was angry."

It took several elongated seconds before Castiel responded. "You were angry about being a human."

"I still am, though not as much. I got used to being human, but I'm still pissed I didn't get a choice. You had a choice. You chose to be human."

"You once asked me if I had a reason, would I choose to be human. My reason is you."

Meg smirked, recalling on that night underneath he stars. "I remember that conversation. Fuck, I was _really_ peeved. But now, I'm still kind of surprised—"

"That I chose to be human?"

"You didn't have to, really. We could've done it—angel and human. It's happened before, hasn't it?"

The former angel stared down at the woman beside him. "It has. But I would have seen you grow old and die, and I would remain alive, non-aging. I could always resurrect you, but it would be for my selfish reasons. But being a human myself, I would grow old with you. We would experience this human life together, the life absent of supernatural creatures, celestial beings and demonic spirits. The life hunters don't experience. I'm ready to die as well, but not until I am old and feeble."

"And what about your other lovers?"

The former angel scrunched his faced in confusion. "I don't have any other—"

Meg rolled her eyes. "Sam and Dean. What about them?"

Castiel pretended not to be embarrassed, but Meg could see the heat rising to his cheeks. "They encouraged me. You really do underestimate them. They told me I had an opportunity, and I need to take it. They are my adopted family, and they will always be a part of my new human life, but I want this."

The two gazed at each other, eyes locked and unwavering.

"Do _you_ want this?"

She brought his head to hers, kissing him softly on the lips. "If I'm going to be a human for the rest of my time on this Earth, then it might as well be with you."

* * *

_FYI, this is not over. I have a continuation chapter in the works. _


	2. Decades

_**Thirteen months later.**_

Thanks to a hacker friend of the Winchesters, a young and sprightly woman named Charlie Bradbury, Meg and Castiel were civilians with backstories. Meg Masters was an only child from Massachusetts, both parents dead. She graduated from high school and dabbled in different jobs before going to nursing school. Castiel was Clarence Winchester, one of many siblings, from Illinois. He earned a degree from a modestly renowned state university and worked as a high school history teacher. Whenever discussing Sam and Dean with others, he called them "his cousins." In actuality, they were close enough to being brothers.

The income they made was enough for survival, but that's all they really wanted. They first bought a used car and rented a small ranch home less than a mile from the high school Castiel worked at; he could walk to school while Meg took the car to the county hospital. They made friends at work and quickly immersed into the small town familiarity of Carpenter. Meg and Clarence, outsiders who loved the small town nearly as much as they loved each other.

In the spring, Castiel immersed himself in tending to the garden. It became his main occupation during the summer when he was on vacation and Meg worked her shifts. He watched documentaries, read novels, watched television and films, cooked dinner so it would be ready when Meg returned. When it was her off days, she slept late as he prepared breakfast. Sometimes they did chores and errands; occasionally they did something fun like going to see a movie or go to the park. They hadn't seen the Winchesters since they dropped Castiel off at Meg's motel doorstep, but there were many speakerphone calls that went on for at least forty-five minutes. They were once invited, by a colleague of Castiel's, to a dinner party.

"How did you two meet anyways?"

Castiel gulped and glanced at Meg, hoping she would know the proper human answer.

"Our families have a long history together," Meg confidently replied. "I knew Clarence's cousins for a while, and they sort of introduced us." She turned to meet his gaze, smiling mischievously. "I guess you could say it was destiny that let us meet."

"But it was our choice to stay together," Castiel added.

* * *

_**Three weeks later.**_

One August evening, when the heat broke and it was much cooler due to the sun dipping below the horizon, Castiel waited for Meg to come back. He watched the evening news to pass the time, but he could hardly contain himself, hardly paid attention to the talking heads and bleak images.

When the front door opened, Castiel sprung up on his feet. An exhausted Meg said hello and began cursing and complaining about an irritable patient. Castiel placed his two hands on her upper arms. "Meg, not right now. I have something to ask you."

The frazzled Meg yawned. When she opened her eyes, Castiel was on one knee.

"I see this in television and movies, but I don't have a ring," he began. "Meg, we've been humans for a while now, and it was always my plan to stay with you until death. But apparently marriage is a very common practice for humans in love and want to stay together, and we might as well. So, will you marry me?"

Meg laughed.

Castiel furrowed his brow in confusion and stood up.

"What got you thinking about marriage, Clarence?"

"I…I was talking to Sam and Dean earlier today. They assumed we already were, and when I corrected them, Sam asked me why not. We love each other, and I see no reason not to. And apparently there are added benefits of marriage—"

Meg laughed again.

"You…you don't want to get married."

She smirked. "It wouldn't matter if we did or didn't. It would just be a legally binding thing. But there's nothing stopping us."

"So you do?"

"You seem really intent on it, and like you said, we might as well."

Castiel kissed the former demon wearing hospital scrubs. Admittedly, he was surprised she kissed him back.

* * *

_**One month later.**_

The wedding was hardly anything spectacular. They told their Carpenter friends that it was just going to be a small ceremony with family. In reality, it was not even that.

Castiel insisted on being married in a church. The one he chose was on the outskirts of Carpenter, small but ornate. For Meg, It was strange walking into a church and not feeling the overbearing sensation of holiness and righteousness weighing down on her. The preacher who would be officiating the wedding was a middle-aged man with kindly brown eyes and graying hair that contrasted with his dark skin.

The only witnesses were Sam and Dean. If Meg had her way, they would never have been invited—not because it was Sam and Dean, but because having witnesses made it too official. But they were as close to family as Castiel knew, and in the past year and a half, they had grown on her.

As she prepared herself in a separate room, Meg stared at herself in the mirror. The dress she chose to wear was plain in comparison to the wild creations she saw on television shows, movies, and magazines. In her previous human life, she never married—and white was definitely not the color of choice for a bridal gown. And marriage was joke in Hell, although it provided tons of leverage when messing with humans. But here she stood, _a former demon about to marry a former angel. _She laughed at the sound of that.

A sharp knock disturbed Meg from her thoughts. She opened the door to see Sam, dressed in one of the suits he wore when he pretended to be an FBI agent.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Who's asking?"

"Well, you are the bride, and it's not exactly a large ceremony…"

Meg shrugged. "I'll be out in a minute."

Sam stood in the threshold, unmoving. "What?" she asked.

"Do…do you want me to walk you down the aisle?"

Meg scoffed. "You want to walk me down the aisle, pass me on as if you're my family."

"You and your dad did possess me on occasion," Sam matter-of-factly answered. "But if you don't want me to, that's fine. It is your wedding."

Meg placed her hand on her hip, her elbow extended outward. "You always were the nicer Winchester. And we were friends, once." Her mind flashed to when they first met on the side of a countryside highway, back to days of Azazel and the Apocalypse was impending. During that time they spent at the bus station, she almost believed herself in thinking that she and Sam could really make it to California and be friends.

"I'd say we're friends now," Sam replied as he led her towards the main chapel. "Sure, we have a checkered history—"

"That's putting it mildly."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, but you really have changed. Maybe not your wit and sarcasm…but I knew when I saw you sacrifice yourself and fight Crowley—you were different. You care for Cas as much as you were hell-bent on getting the Apocalypse to happen, maybe even more."

It was definitely more, but Meg didn't want to say anything aloud.

When they reached the chapel, Meg closed her eyes and took a deep breath before the doors opened. _Why the fuck am I this nervous?_ When she opened them, she saw Dean and the preacher at the front, yards away. Castiel stood with them. With each step, her human heart pounded against her chest as if it was begging to explode out. The closer she and Sam got, Castiel's face became clearer. He was smiling, a beaming grin that she knew he was brimming with jubilation. When Sam let go of her and went to stand next to Dean, her legs wobbled as she stood in front of Castiel. There were only five people in the entire chapel, and Meg was _nervous_, for the first time since…she couldn't remember when. And if she ever did feel apprehension as a demon, it was nothing compared to the jittery sensation she was experiencing now.

The words were fuzzy, even when Meg repeated the vows. They were corny and sappy, just like the ceremony, but she meant every word and embarrassingly relished every second. Why was she so sentimental over something that didn't really matter? Maybe there was something to marriage after all, for when Castiel kissed her, the nervousness mixed with excitement bloomed into absolute joy.

The celebration moved into the ridiculous '67 Chevy Impala, with "JUST MARRIED" written on the back window—Castiel found all the human clichés endearing even if she thought them inane.

At a restaurant that was just above their usual fare, Dean stopped Meg before they entered, letting Sam and Castiel in before them. "I know we've had our differences. Hell, I'm still apprehensive about you, and sometimes I think you'll turn back into a demon and kill us all in our sleep."

"What makes you think I won't?" Meg smugly asked.

"Because for some reason that crazy son of a bitch loves you, and you love him. You two have the craziest love story I've ever heard, and the hopeless romantic buried inside me thinks you two deserve to live it."

"So you're going to live vicariously through us?"

Dean shrugged. "Just don't hurt him, or I will hurt you."

Meg smirked. "I can say the same for you."

* * *

_**Five hours later.**_

"We should have a honeymoon," Castiel said as they sat in bed.

"And go where?" Meg asked. "We've been everywhere. We've seen it all."

"But we're human now. Things are different."

* * *

_**Seven months later.**_

There were days when they forget they were once immortal beings. They spent their days doing human things, like waking up, going to work, eating meals, socializing with other humans, watching television and going to bed. They talked about human things like how their day at work was, anything in the recent news, buying groceries and paying rent, having ice cream before dinner.

Then there were days when all they could think about was their previous "lives."

They were rare, but they happened.

And they were the loneliest days.

"You've been taciturn today," Castiel stated when they prepared to go to bed.

"I miss home," Meg honestly answered.

"Hell?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

Meg sighed. "I don't know. I hated going back. Always some kind of new personal torture that made me bleed and scream for mercy, but for no reason I miss it."

"There are days when I miss Heaven," Castiel said. "But I just have to remind myself that I have you, and that homesickness goes away."

His romantic side was so syrupy, but Meg accepted it anyways.

* * *

_**Five months later.**_

On an off day from work, Meg waited patiently for Castiel to return from the high school. He woke up at ungodly hours and always came back to the house shortly after two thirty p.m., but somehow he was always chipper and showed no signs of sleepiness or exhaustion. She was hoping he would walk in the door as the same way he always did.

Time was already so sluggish on Earth, but consciously waiting made it even worse. Distracting herself was difficult—eventually she could only focus on the ticking of the clock and how she was going to tell him her news.

When the door opened, Meg restrained herself from rushing to him. Instead she listened to him talk about how promising his students were, and how he looked forward to the new school year. He poured himself a cup of coffee and offered her one. She declined.

"Meg? Is everything okay?"

"Clarence," she whispered, touching his face. To Castiel, he probably thought it was a rare moment where she was acting like the romantic that he was. But this was anxiety, one of uncertainty and confusion.

"I'm pregnant."

Castiel's face dropped from astonishment, but it quickly transformed into beaming exclamation. He held her head in his hands, kissed the top of her forehead before kissing her on the lips, then embraced her tightly.

Meg remained unresponsive.

* * *

_**Nine months later.**_

Pregnancy was a bitch. It never compared to Hell, but it came close.

Especially going into labor.

As they rushed to the hospital, there were two things Meg thought about.

First, _contractions fucking hurt._ Her pain tolerance was high, but this was near her maximum if it hadn't crossed the line already.

Secondly, she cursed whoever decided to bring her back from permanent death and make her a human. She cursed the Winchesters for stopping the Apocalypse. She cursed Castiel for loving her. She cursed herself for loving him. She cursed the damn baby inside her human uterus. _I don't want this thing anymore. _Giving it up would disappoint Castiel, but _fuck, _she abhorred this stupid fetus more than anything else. Meg wished she could go back in time and make sure she never teamed up with the Winchesters after Crowley took over Hell.

After contractions and coaxing from the doctor and Castiel, squeezing her hand throughout, the sound of an infant crying filled the room. Other noises followed, but Meg closed her eyes and let the sounds fade into white noise.

"Meg, look at him," Castiel's hoarse whisper commented several minutes later. Meg kept her eyes closed. _No. I don't want to see it. I hate this thing. Get rid of it._

But temptation convinced her otherwise. Meg opened her eyes, the sight of Castiel holding the baby in his arms filling her vision. The little pudgy face stared blankly at its surroundings.

When the tiny beady eyes looked straight into Meg's, the anger and hate was flooded over with the desire to hold her son.

* * *

_**Two years later.**_

"Here we are again," Castiel smiled, squeezing Meg's hand as she held their daughter in her arms.

* * *

_**Fifteen years later.**_

Castiel's brown hair was graying. His eyes lined with wrinkles that crinkled whenever he grinned. He wore reading glasses and sweaters he bought from thrift shops, as if he was consciously trying to embody Bill Cosby and other television dads. After they moved into a larger home, he began a new garden, occasionally asking Matthew and Leah to help him with weeding, watering, mowing the lawn—Leah was always the more willing, but Matthew never complained.

Meg's own hair was graying as well. Her own face developed wrinkles—softer than Castiel's, but noticeable. Somewhere along the way, when she wasn't wearing hospital scrubs, she ditched her leather jackets for blouses and pencil skirts. When her children were younger, she read to them all kinds of stories—it rarely happened now that they were teenagers, but occasionally when they were sick or unhappy, she pulled out an anthology of short stories and just read.

Matthew and Leah both looked like Castiel, but they both had Meg's brown eyes. Behaviorally, Matthew was more like Meg—rash and blunt, but clever and fiercely loyal. Leah took after Castiel—gentle and intrigued, but stubborn and quick to anger. Matthew was a fencer—a foilist—constantly attending practices and competitions. Leah liked spending her time outdoors—biking, hiking, anything that meant being outside. Both were studious, but Matthew preferred math and science while Leah enjoyed English literature and history.

Sam and Dean were uncles who visited at least four times a year. Just like Castiel and Meg, their bodies were giving way to old age. They were still hunters, always on the move in the Impala that somehow managed to keep running. When Matthew and Leah were around, they were fun, playful, encouraging_—happy_. But when the children were asleep our out of the house, that was when the monster talk started.

"When are you going to tell them that their parents used to be an angel and a demon?" Dean inquired with every visit.

"They're not ready yet," Castiel constantly replied.

"Will they ever be ready?"

"When we say it is," Meg retorted.

* * *

_**Two years later.**_

Watching Matthew walk across the stage to receive his high school diploma, Meg's heart swelled with pride. When was the last time she experienced it? During the days when Lucifer walked the Earth, when she was trusted by him and remained at his side? _Have faith_. Or possibly even further, when Azazel trusted her to trap John Winchester by getting close to his sons.

Just like her previous human life, all of that was a distant memory.

And as Matthew shook hands with the high school principal—and Castiel sitting amongst the teachers during the ceremony, instead of by her side—Meg squeezed Leah's hand, not realizing that she was softly crying.

"Mom it's okay," Leah whispered. "He's not gone yet."

"It's not that," Meg whispered back.

She wished Castiel was next to her instead of Sam and Dean, who wanted to see their nephew in name graduate high school. He would look at her and know exactly what was upsetting her. He always did.

It was time.

* * *

_**Four hours later.**_

Matthew, out of his graduation regalia, and Leah sat side-by-side at the dinner table. Castiel sat across from them, with Sam and Dean flanking the ends. Meg stood at the picture window, pretending to look out on the backyard despite the nighttime darkness blocking any decent view.

She might have been the one who read stories to them their whole lives, but this was not a story. This was the truth. Castiel was better at delivering the truth. Meg was too blunt, too honest. Castiel could sugarcoat.

But what was there to sugarcoat? He told the whole story. He was once an Angel of the Lord, given the task of protecting humanity and making sure that the Apocalypse would happen. Meg was given a similar task, except as a demon, she wanted humanity annihilated. He explained everything, from hunters of monsters Sam and Dean's destinies as the vessels of Lucifer and Michael—and how they subverted the greatest event of all, bringing free will to the universe. He detailed the aftermath, all of it, leading to how he fell in love with the natural enemy—her death, and human rebirth.

Meg refrained from snorting at how Castiel managed to turn all of it into a tragic, romantic epic, but none of it quite mattered. When he finished, she turned around to see her children's reactions and faces.

"You're joking right?" Matthew asked after several uncomfortable seconds of silence.

"No. None of this a joke," Castiel answered.

"It's not some elaborate prank," Sam assured. "All of it is real."

The two teenagers stared at their mother. Meg nodded. "We didn't say anything because…"

She choked. Why didn't they say anything? Why didn't they tell them when they were young? She realized now this was a mistake.

"Because we were afraid," Castiel continued for her.

"And stupid," Meg finally said. It was the truth.

* * *

_**One year later.**_

At first, it was silence. The children stopped talking unless it was absolutely necessary. For Matthew, it was easier to ignore his family once he went to college. He didn't come home for breaks, instead going off to the families of his friends. For Leah, it was harder because she still lived with them.

"They don't trust us," Castiel finally said one evening when Leah went to bed and Meg was getting ready to take a night shift at the hospital.

"Will they ever?" Meg responded.

Matthew returned from his first year—reluctant and still wary.

* * *

_**Five weeks later.**_

At the quiet dinner table, there was a peep.

"Mom? Dad?" Leah whispered. Castiel and Meg stopped chewing their salmon to stare at each other before gazing upon their youngest.

"How did you meet?"

* * *

_**Thirty years later.**_

They never were a normal family, but managed to fool everyone else—and sometimes themselves. Castiel and Meg watched Matthew and Leah go through more milestones. Leah graduated from high school and opted for the military instead of college. Matthew graduated from college and ended up establishing his own architectural firm. They married and had children of their own. Leah her family was constantly moving from naval base to naval base. Matthew established his family in Richmond, Virginia, less than two hours away from the small town that he grew up in.

Sam and Dean would never fully give up the hunting life, although they themselves stopped going after monsters and ended up becoming resources for other hunters. They found themselves in Carpenter for weeks on end before returning to their bunker for months. It was a cycle that Castiel and Meg came to enjoy.

Meg and Castiel retired from their human careers, but stayed in Carpenter. They belonged there, and even though neither of them said it out loud, it was agreed between the both of them. To the townspeople, they were still Clarence and Meg, the elderly couple who ate Sunday breakfast in the local diner where Meg once worked at so many years ago. They were still Clarence and Meg, the elderly couple who spent their time in the park observing people and petting dogs.

And to each other, despite the humanity that washed over them, they were still Castiel and Meg. Castiel still had some kind of self-righteousness in him, a constant desire to do good deeds. Meg was still acidic and mischievous, always pugnacious.

When they heard of Dean Winchester's death—of natural causes, and finalized—they traveled, for the first time since Castiel was still an angel, to the Winchesters' bunker. The elderly Sam was waiting for them. They held a small service in Dean's honor—just Castiel, Meg, Leah and Matthew, the latter two wishing to pay respects to their Uncle Dean.

Meg never thought she would end up commemorating Dean Winchester's life…but there she was, at the foot of his hunter's funeral pyre, his body burning, and wishing her hesitant friend all the best in the afterlife.

* * *

_**Three years later.**_

Sam's death came with warning. During his last week alive, Meg and Castiel stayed with him in the bunker, tending to him as best as they could. Sam couldn't walk, and barely ate or drank.

One evening, as Castiel slept, Meg sat awake, reading _Robinson Crusoe _to Sam.

"Is this how you fell in love with the broken angel?" Sam croaked when Meg closed her night's reading. "You read to him at the hospital?"

"I guess so," Meg responded. "There was more to it, of course. I tried fighting and fighting, hoping that it would pass over. But it never did."

Sam weakly smiled. "To think that you once tried to kill me."

"I didn't try to kill _you_. You were important to the cause. Your dad on the other hand…"

"We never made it to California."

She smirked. "It's only a couple states over. We can drive there in the morning."

But Sam closed his eyes permanently.

* * *

_**Two years later.**_

On the bed in their Carpenter home, Meg drank some soup that Castiel prepared for her. As she slurped at the noodles and broth, he read to her an Agatha Christie novel.

"I have a question," she interrupted. "I've always wondered—when I was a demon and you were a holy high-roller, what did you see?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You obviously saw my true form, but what did you _see_?" she clarified.

Castiel set aside the book and took her hand, once sturdy and nimble now frail and soft. "A thin, skeletal being with no eyes and long horns. And your vessel had burning, boiling flesh, with fresh open wounds and blood constantly spewing out."

She let out a miniscule chuckle. "Hell always stayed with us, even after we were off the Rack."

"Did you see _my _true form?"

"Just your halo, and the shadow of your wings. I could feel your grace radiating, though. It was damn obnoxious, but I got used to all that overbearing holiness."

He brushed aside a lock of her hair. "And here we are."

"Humans."

"We raised a family together."

Meg stared into his eyes. They were still the fierce blue they had always been despite the soft skin around them. "We did, didn't we?"

"And after all of it, are you still upset about being a human?"

Meg pondered over it. She nearly forgot about how bitter and upset she was when she woke up as a human, and wished to be dead. In many ways, she was still angry. She was now on her death bed, weak and dying. She never had a choice, but the decades were not so horrible. They were wonderful, in fact, despite all the pitfalls.

"A little," she answered truthfully, "but not as much as I was before. I'm accustomed to it now. I can't hold onto my grudge against God or whatever forever."

"I never regret tearing out my grace to be with you," Castiel professed. "I never have. It was the best decision I ever made."

Meg rolled her eyes. Typical Castiel—but that was what she loved about him.

She could see a tall woman dressed in a suit standing behind him. Her face was expressionless, and she continued to stare at a point above Meg's head. _This is it_, she thought. The reaper locked eyes with Meg.

She reached her hand towards his wrinkly face and stroked her thumb against his cheek. "We're goin' to heaven, Clarence," she hoarsely whispered.

Castiel held onto Meg's hand until it softened its grip. He wept until his tear ducts couldn't empty out the salty drops anymore.

* * *

_**Undetermined**_

She was young again—her Heaven was their house in Carpenter. There was no Castiel, no Matthew, no Leah to greet her—but it was an exact replica of the home she accepted as her own for over half a century. Even without Castiel and her children, it was pleasant. She read books. She watched television shows and movies.

On occasion she would visit Sam and Dean in their shared Heaven—the bunker. They explained to her that Heaven had changed within the years. Everyone still had their personal slices of paradise, but they could visit others. She found herself visiting them and Kevin Tran, the boy prophet whose Heaven was a college campus he never got to experience. They were the only few whom she knew in Heaven who wouldn't mind her presence. Time had no more meaning, and she had no idea what was happening on Earth.

While walking back from Sam and Dean's bunker replica one supposed afternoon, she saw someone pulling weeds in her garden. In a split second, she wanted to yell and tell the intruder to get out of her heaven.

Then she realized—it was him.

"Remember me?" she called out. Castiel turned around. The wrinkles were gone from his face, his gray hair replaced with the vibrant brown. "I sure remember you, Clarence."

* * *

_Thank you for waiting. I was swamped with my new job and I nearly forgot about this second chapter despite having nearly half of it already written._


End file.
